


Out Of My Mind

by mudget



Category: Captain Planet and the Planeteers
Genre: Bodyswap, Genderswap, Humour, Multi, Supernatural Elements
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2011-02-28
Updated: 2011-04-25
Packaged: 2017-10-16 00:18:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 3,787
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/166397
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mudget/pseuds/mudget
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Two Planeteers wake one morning to find not everything is as it seems. In order for the Planeteers to function adequately they must trace the source to reverse the effects.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The distant buzz infiltrates his sleep, drawing him to consciousness. Blinking groggily he rolls over to squint at the noisy menace blaring at him from the bedside table. _Huh? That can’t be right._ He rubs his eyes and takes another look. _Why’d I set my alarm so early?_ Rolling onto his back he drapes an arm across his eyes, his other hand feeling around for the snooze button. _Just another ten minutes..._

Except that the uncomfortable pressure of a full bladder, now making its presence well known with the new sleeping position, makes it difficult to return to sleep. He rolls onto his side in an attempt to ignore the desire to pee. After a moment of failure he flings back the doona and swings his legs over the edge of the bed. Rubbing his eyes once more, he wonders irritably why his mattress seems higher than usual, his feet barely able to rest flat on the floor. Assuming Ma-Ti is the underlying cause for the odd prank he heaves himself up and shuffles towards the bathroom, his eyes half-closed in the pale dawn light.

His hip collides painfully with something, and he swears silently. _What the?_ Opening his eyes he looks down at the object of his latest bruise. _I don’t have a desk in my room._ Feeling suddenly disoriented he looks about the room, trying to recollect where he was and how he got there. His eyes fall on the pile of clothes heaped on the chair beside the bed. A bra lays draped on top of the pile. His eyes widen as he recognises the green and yellow sneakers neatly positioned in front of the chair. Flicking his eyes to the empty bed he tries to recall the previous night, his thoughts racing as to how he had come to end up in _her_ room.

Recollecting that he woke alone, he looks towards the bathroom. Holding his breath he listens for any noise emanating from the room. Straining to hear anything he edges closer to the door, reaching for the door knob. With a false sense of bravado he resolutely opens the door a crack and peers in. _Empty_. Letting out his breath in a sigh, noting the odd, slightly high-pitched tone – _must just be from nervous anticipation_ – he pads towards the toilet, still eager to relieve himself. He reaches down to lift the toilet seat and pauses, catching sight of his arm. Dropping the seat with a clatter he lifts his hand to his face, staring at it with growing anxiety. _What the fuck?! Someone’s chopped off my arms and replaced them with Linka’s!_

Realising the absurdity of such a suggestion – _surely I’d remember having my arms hacked off, and I’d at least be sore where they stuck the new ones on_ – he cast the thought from his mind. Refocusing on the outstretched hand still in front of his face, he stares at the ring wrapped comfortably around the forefinger. Lowering his arm shakily, he tentatively looks down. Two small, pert breasts interrupt his vision and for a second – or two – he is transfixed by the sight. He draws his arms up to pat the breasts, a stupid grin resting on his features until he suddenly grasps the gravity of the situation.

His face drops. _Oh no. No, no, no, please no. Please tell me it’s..._ He hooks a thumb over the waist band of the pale-yellow cotton boxers and squeezing his eyes shut, stretches the elastic out. Drawing a deep breath he opens his eyes and takes a peek. He released the elastic with a snap, his head spinning and a wave of nausea washing over him. Slowly lowering the toilet lid he turns and sits down, resting his elbows on his knees, his head hanging between his legs. He takes several deep breaths as the sickening feeling abates. He notices the golden strands hanging beside his face and reality begins to sink in. Scrubbing his hands over his face – _Linka’s hands, over_ her _face_. _Oh man, this is gonna get too confusing_ – it dawns on him that Linka might wake up in _his_ body.

 _Oh shit._ He bursts from the bathroom, skidding on the door mat outside the front door with arms flailing, and runs towards his own cabin.

“LINKA!!” he cries, not used to the strange twist of his words and the tone escaping his mouth.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A reminder - thoughts are written in italics.

At the same moment that Wheeler was being yanked to consciousness by the buzzing of the alarm clock, Linka was beginning to stir, her body clock slowly drawing her awake.

She vaguely wonders why her alarm hasn’t gone off until, in her semi-lucid state, she notices the sweaty and slightly offensive odour radiating from around her. Her nose wrinkles – _smells like old socks and stinking boys_ – and as she stretches with a silent yawn, her knuckles brushing the bed head, she realises with disgust that she seems to be a contributing source of the smell. Rubbing the sleep from her eyes she swings her legs over the side of the bed, with the intention of promptly showering the stench off. Her legs jar painfully as her feet hit the floor sooner than she anticipated. She blinks in the early morning light, the low-hanging sun peeping over the window sill, blinding her somewhat as she drags herself heavily from the bed with a frown.

Distracted by thoughts of feeling strangely leaden and awkward, and curious why she stank so much – _bozhe moy, what happened last night?_ \- she fails to notice the pair of shoes lying in her path. After stumbling over the sneakers, her foot snags inside a pair of jeans, and in an attempt to halt her inevitable fall she reaches for the bed post. Her eyes widen in surprise as her hand slips over the top of the post, caused by the towel slung carelessly over the top, and with her full weight behind her she lands sprawled on the floor. _Chyort voz'mí! What...?_ Looking up from her prostrate position she realises with disgust that her face is bare inches away from a rumpled collection of dirty socks, boxers and tissues. _Gádost! That is_ _disgusting!_

 Rumpled beneath her hand is the towel that led to her current position and as she scowls at the object of her demise, she suddenly focuses on the hand resting atop it. Her scowl slowly vanishes and is replaced by one of simple astonishment, her brain unable to process the contradiction witnessed by her eyes. Tentatively, with fingers twitching, she draws the hand towards her face, her eyes tracing along the outline of each finger, and lingering on the flaming symbol before her. Wrenching her eyes away from the ring, she glances over the pale scars marring the knuckles, the faint splatter of freckles dotting the back of the hand and the small, circular burn mark still evident just beneath the knuckle of the forefinger.

Pushing up to kneel amongst the chaotic mess she silently stares at the hands before her, turning them to gaze, stunned, at the broad palms. Her brain is numb. She clenches her fists closed loosely and drops her arms as she casts her eyes over the messy room. Slowly standing, she absently kicks her foot free from its trapped position within the jeans and turns to look back at the bed and the rumpled sheets with a frown. Her brain tentatively begins to whir once again - _How did I end up here, like this?_ She looks down at her outstretched hands once more – _my hands, or Wheeler’s hands? Bozhe moy, I do not want to think where his hands have been!_ \- and holds them a little further away from herself with a small look of revulsion.

As Linka glances over the small tip-site that is Wheeler’s room a string of thoughts creep into her mind – _if I am waking up in Wheeler’s body, then what is happening to mine? Could he wake up in my body?_ With a sudden look of horror it hits her – _Bozhe Moy! I do not trust that durak with my body! Who knows what he will be doing with it! Nyet, I have a rough idea..._

With the prospect of Wheeler taking full advantage of the bizarre situation she turns on her heel and, stumbling slightly over the carpet of clothes and almost tripping on the path, unused to the longer legs, Linka bolts in the direction of her own hut.

 _I hope I am not too late,_ “WHEELER!” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N - I know it's a short chapter, but it seemed to take me forever to write! I always seem to have trouble writing Linka... Anyhow, it seemed more logical to end this chapter here, as it mirrors the previous one. Also, I wanna add - the stinky boys bit was my boyfriend's suggestion! So thanks, Matt for the input - and for allowing me to lay claim to the fact that boys smell in the morning! ... Also thought I'd add that Linka's little 'trip' is roughly based on a true event. More like events. Yes, I have stumbled, fallen on my ass and face planted in my bedroom after tripping on shoes or clothes and once a towel that I left hanging over the end of my bed. I've also slipped on those stupid slippery/glossy plastic bags, but figured the Planeteers would be more eco-friendly than I am and wouldn't use plastic bags... So yeah, I'm kinda messy :S


	3. Chapter 3

Frantic in their pursuit to reach their own hut both Linka and Wheeler fail to notice each other until the last fateful moment.

Wheeler attempts to draw up short, bare feet skidding painfully in the dirt, and upon realising that Linka, now inhabiting his own much larger, heavier frame, is still running at full speed he braces himself for the inevitable impact. Linka slams into him, driving the air from his lungs and they land heavily on the path together.

Linka finds green eyes peering back at her. Stunned, she glances over the familiar features of her own face. She notices a twitch in the corner of the mouth and she frowns at the smirk that suddenly appears.

“Hey babe,” Wheeler coughs. “Is that a banana in your pocket, or you just happy to see me?”

A look of confusion passes across the face hovering above him. Wheeler quirks an eyebrow, before shifting beneath the dead weight pinning him to the rough ground. The look of confusion quickly turns to one of shock, and with abject horror Linka quickly glances down before scrambling off from on top of Wheeler.

Wheeler chuckles, the noise sounding strange to his ears, as he sits up with a wince.

“Man, I never realised how heavy I was.” 

Linka, sitting awkwardly by the side of the path, with her legs drawn up and arms draped over her knees, avoids Wheeler’s amused look, “ _Da_ , you are.”  She clears her throat at the odd tenor tone.

“Jesus, Linka, I think you gave me breast cancer when you ran into me,” says Wheeler suddenly, rubbing his chest with a pained expression.

Linka replies absently “ _Nyet_ , Yankee that is a myth-” Her words cut off as she realises her counterpart is referring to and caressing _her_ breast. “Wheeler!”

He looks up at her, “What?”

“What do you think you are doing?! Stop!”

“Huh?” Wheeler holds his hands out in exasperation at the fierce look she is sending him, slightly perturbed that his own face is capable of such an expression. “Fine, sorry. It was sore is all, geez...” he mutters.

An awkward silence hangs, Wheeler still sitting in the middle of the path, trying to take furtive glances downwards without incurring Linka’s wrath, and Linka pointedly looking anywhere _but_ downwards, or in the direction of the obnoxious inhabitant of her body.

“Well, as intriguing as this is, I still gotta pee,” states Wheeler finally, rising to stand and brushing dirt from his backside, his hands lingering a little longer than necessary.

Linka looks up at him, eyes wide. “What? _Nyet_! You cannot! You...we should go and find Gaia and find out what is going on and see if she can reverse it.”

Wheeler offers a hand to help Linka up as he replies with a snicker, “Yeah, whatever. But don’t you think we should get dressed first?” Wheeler grunts as he tries to haul Linka to her feet, forgetting the limitations of the woman’s slight frame.

“ _Nyet._ We should go immediately. The sooner we speak to Gaia, the sooner we can be ourselves.” She rolls her eyes as Wheeler staggers backwards when she pulls herself to her feet.

“Babe, I gotta say, that accent sounds pretty terrible coming outta my mouth,” Wheeler says with a grin, as they head off in the direction of the Crystal Chamber.

“Anything that comes out of your mouth sounds terrible,” countered Linka.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N Just wanted to make a note about the accent thing. I mulled this over in my mind for a while, and came to the conclusion that our accents come from the way we pronounce and form our words (the way we shape our mouths etc). To some degree, I suspect that Linka would still shape her vowels and whatnot in a particular way, but be limited by the constraints of Wheeler's physical form. I'm not a linguist, so sorry if I'm off the mark, or if it doesn't make sense. That's just how I analysed it - my science brain tends to rationalise everything, even something as supernatural as this... Meh..


	4. Chapter 4

“Are you _sure_ there is nothing you can do, Gaia?” Linka asks once more.

“I’m sorry, Linka, but it’s beyond my control,” replies Gaia, patiently. With a small frown she continues, “I _can_ tell you that some strange powers are at play, however. I can feel a distortion of energy around the two of you, but I can’t see the source of what’s causing it.”

“What the hell does that mean? Don’t get me wrong, I’m not exactly complaining about this situation, but is this, you know, _permanent_?”

Gaia looks at the blonde figure before her, “What that means, Wheeler, is that some sort of spell, or magic has transferred your consciousness, your mind if you will, into another body. Whatever, or whomever cast this would have to be incredibly powerful.”

 “Gimme a break, Gaia. Magic? Come on. Seriously?”

“And how else do you explain what has happened to us, Wheeler?” admonishes Linka, crossing her arms in front of her chest. She glances down at the unfamiliar feeling of well-defined biceps against her hands, her gaze lingering a little longer than was really necessary.

Tearing her eyes away she uncrosses her arms, dropping them beside her, and clears her throat. She cautions a glance in Wheeler’s direction, averting her eyes with irritation at the smug smile registering on his face. _Bozhe moy, that is_ my _face that idiot Yankee is smirking with!_

“How do we trace the cause of this horrible exchange?” Linka asks, more sharply than she intended.

Gaia raises an eyebrow at the bite to Linka’s question. “I’m afraid I can’t help you with that. That’s something you and Wheeler will have to work out together.” She glances towards Wheeler, who was fidgeting distractedly, before continuing, “I suggest looking back over anything that stood out during the last eco-mission; people you spoke with, strange – Wheeler, is there a problem?”

Wheeler was dancing from foot to foot, with a clear look of discomfort.

He passes a glance at Linka before looking up at Gaia with a wretched look. “Uh, well, I have to, uh...” he stammers, wringing his hands. Disconcerted by the annoyance Linka was rather alarmingly conforming onto his own features he turns his back on her glare and leans toward Gaia. “I _really_ have to pee...” he whispers.

The Earth spirit chuckles. “Oh. Well, don’t let me stop you. Far be it for me to interrupt nature’s call.”

“Ha, good one Gaia,” grins Wheeler.

Linka looks at them, horrified. “No Gaia! You cannot let him!”

“Oh no. I’m keeping well out of this one. You will have to work this out amongst yourselves.” The Spirit of the Earth quietly withdraws with a shake of her head, leaving the two to feud it out.

Linka crosses her arms and glares at Wheeler.

“Come on, Linka. What, I’m just sposed to hold on for God knows how long? It could take _ages_ to reverse this and I’m pretty sure your bladder will burst in the meantime. I’m guessing that could get kinda messy,” Wheeler reasons, bouncing on the spot with his hands clasped in front of him in a desperate bid to not wet himself. He suddenly grins. “Besides, pretty soon I’m sure nature’s gonna come knocking on _your_ door.” He gives her a wink.

Linka pales. She inadvertently looks downwards, mortified. _O Bozhe!_

“What? Didn’t think I might take a leak once in a while? I know my body’s pretty good, but it aint _that_ good,” Wheeler quips with a smirk. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to visit the uh – _ladies_ room.” _Huh, never thought I’d ever say that and get away with it._

Linka watches helplessly, dumbstruck, as Wheeler sprints from the Crystal Chamber. _This has to be a bad dream. Nyet, it is a nightmare!_

She shakes herself and pushes the images of Wheeler ‘making the most’ of their strange circumstances from her mind. As well as those depicting the inevitable realities that come with inhabiting a male counterpart’s body.

As she steps out into the early morning sunshine, she reasons that the best way to deal with this whole mess was to do what she would do in any situation; logically analyse the event and systematically develop a list of possible suspects.

It also provided a suitable distraction to the flurry of thoughts of what Wheeler could be up to...


	5. Chapter 5

****Squinting out towards the glittering ocean, Linka clumsily makes her way down to the beach and awkwardly plops down onto the sand.

After a frustrated moment of trying to find a comfortable position, growling at the tangle of limbs that fail to obligingly follow such a seemingly simple task, she draws a deep breath and releases it noisily.

She watches the rolling waves, finding comfort in the gentle swell and rhythmic churning. The familiar sound of gulls keening and terns whistling helps to settle her dark mood and scattered thoughts.

Logically, she knew Wheeler was right. She couldn’t stay angry with him over something he had no control over. _He could at least act like he isn’t enjoying this so much_. Her irritation resurfaces before she scolds herself, closing her eyes briefly with a sigh.

She needed to think about how they can reverse...whatever it is that has happened to them. _And to do that we must figure out who could have done such a thing._

One name stands out in her mind; Doctor Blight. _She has done it once before, perhaps she could do it again?_ With a small frown she casts her mind back over the past week, trying to recollect if they came across any trace of the unstable scientist.

After a moment she shakes her head. _Either she has become much better at remaining concealed or she is not the one behind this. Besides, it does not make much sense. What could she possibly gain from exchanging just the bodies of Wheeler and I?_

“Wow, you’re up early!” says a cheery voice.

Linka jumps. Lost in her thoughts she had failed to hear the Water Planeteer approach. She offers a tight smile in response and fixedly turns her gaze back to the undulating ocean.

Gi studies the red-head a moment before dropping to the sand and making herself comfortable.

Looking sideways at her fellow Planeteer, Gi reaches forward to pluck the feather protruding from the sand in front of her.

“Is everything okay, Wheeler?” she asks finally, noticing an unusual quiet apprehension in the normally jovial, laid-back American.

Linka glances at the Asian. She opens her mouth and closes it again, brow creasing as she tries to find the best way of explaining her predicament.

“Oh, you’re not still sulking over the argument you had with Linka yesterday, are you?” chides Gi, twirling the feather between her fingers. A smile twitches at the corner of her mouth.

With a small snort, Linka rolls her eyes. “ _Da_ , it would be just like him to sulk,” she mutters. Irritation flares to the surface once more. Grabbing a nearby twig she digs it into the sand, focusing her glare on the small divot.

Gi watches her teammate in silence, the cool sea breeze sweeping her dark hair back.

Linka habitually tucks a phantom strand of hair behind an ear and draws her knees up with a resounding sigh.

Hugging her knees she rests her forehead against her arms. “Oh Gi, this is horrible,” she mumbles against her legs. “ _Gadost!_ This _smell_ is horrible,” she says lifting her head, disgust twisting her mouth. “I do not even want to think how long it has been since he last washed these boxer shorts.”

Gi blinks. “Huh?” Her eyes grow wide as she swiftly pieces it all together. “Linka?” she breathes. “But... how?”

“That,” Linka sighs, “I do not know.” She rubs her eyes with her fingertips, feeling calluses and tiny nicks graze against her eyelids. “Gaia does not know either.”

“Blight?” guesses Gi.

“ _Nyet_. I thought that too, but I do not believe she is behind it this time,” says Linka. “It would not make sense for her to target just Wheeler and I.”

“Since when does anything Blight does make sense?” Gi stares out at the glittering ocean as she thinks. “Maybe to distract us? Or perhaps to incapacitate the Planeteers? Did Gaia mention whether your rings will work?”

“ _Chyort voz’mi!_ I did not even think about our rings!” Linka holds up her hand and studies the flame-emblazoned ring adorning it. “Gaia did not say anything about our rings. I wonder how the energy shift will affect our powers?”

Gi looks at the ring. “Only one way to find out,” she says, peering up at the Fire Planeteer.

~~~*~~~

Wheeler slides to a stop outside the bathroom, fumbling with the door knob in his urgency. Moving to lift the toilet seat he pauses and glances down with a sudden look of apprehension.

Conflicting thoughts waging in his brain cause him to pause and consider his next move. _Take the perfect opportunity, or do the right thing?_

“Oh man,” he whines to himself, his shoulders sagging as he shakes his head, the unfamiliar swing of a ponytail brushing his neck. He sighs and looks down at the ring on his finger.

“You’re killin’ me here, Linka,” he says, flinching at his disjointed Brooklyn brogue with a Russian twist.

Clearing his throat he begins floundering in his uncertainty and hesitation. He scratches the back of his head, his fingers briefly becoming tangled in the unsuspecting tresses. Setting his mouth in grim determination, he turns, closes his eyes, hooks his thumbs over the elastic waistband and sits, forcing himself to picture anything but the present scenario.

As Wheeler washes his hands he catches sight of Linka’s face in the mirror. He runs his eyes over her delicate features, pushing the mop of blonde hair back and leaning closer to study his new reflection.

He strikes a sexy pose, and in a poor imitation of Linka’s accent says silkily, “Why _da_ , of course you are incredibly good looking, Wheeler. Ever since I kissed you in Russia all I have wanted to do was to rip off your clothes and- “

“Linka?” interrupts a voice from behind.

Wheeler spins, dropping his arms quickly. “I wasn’t...I mean I...I was just...” he stammers. Realising Ma-Ti is giving him a strange look from the doorway he rubs the back of his neck sheepishly. “Oh, hey, Ma-Ti.”

“Uh, is everything ok?” Ma-Ti asks. He cranes his neck through the doorway, casting his eyes briefly around the room. “Who are you talking to?”

Wheeler chuckles. “Just my morning mantra. Come on, little buddy,” he says, sidling up to the younger Planeteer and draping an arm around his shoulders. “Let me fill you in on the rather interesting morning I’ve been having...”

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: I hope you followed that ok, I mixed the inner thoughts in more with the narrative, so I hope you got that. Oh, and hopefully you figured out who the character trapped within Linka's body is, seeing as I never actually named him.


End file.
